


Sweeter Than Icing

by exonomics



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exonomics/pseuds/exonomics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chanyeol has a thing for his coworker and the way he decorates the pastries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweeter Than Icing

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever attempt at writing anything like a story. It was a present to one of my best friends ^^ Originally posted on October 21, 2012.

Practiced hands. That's what it is.

Chanyeol watches as the Jongin's hand move in a stringent rhythm: a flick of the wrist here, a twirl of the hand there. The movements are precise, having perfected their art long ago. They do not shake unsteadily, instead they move with a confidence Chanyeol can only dream of having.

Practiced hands are what separate Chanyeol and the younger boy working on the glass counter. This is what he tells Jongin.  
  
“Oh, is that so, hyung?” he replies, a smirk forming on his lips, his hands never slowing down. Chanyeol blushes, a rare reaction that only seems to occur when the other boy is around.

“Y-yeah...I-I mean...” Chanyeol trails off and furrows his brow, thinking of how he can word this without sounding idiotic. “Your hands never...like... _shake_ or anything...they’re... well ...” He trails off again, this time huffing in frustration. Formulating words and phrases to compare the way Jongin’s hands are moving is an impossible task. It would be easier explaining why Chanyeol’s heart begins to beat faster when the other boy begins to laugh at his response.

“Hyung, it’s not that difficult. I’m just icing a cake, not performing surgery on it.” Jongin sticks his tongue out at him from across the counter, the blush creeping up Chanyeol’s neck again. “Though, the way Kyungsoo almost burnt it this morning, it probably needs some recuperation.”

Chanyeol watches as Jongin’s hands dip back into a large bowl of pink icing, scooping some out with a metal spatula and gently placing on the yellow cake. The cake is soft and delicate; put too much pressure or push too hard, and it will crack or cave in. Chanyeol knows not to touch cakes made in the bakery: his hands are too large and fingers too awkward, body too out of proportion compared to the rest of the workers. He would end up knocking a cake onto the floor (twice), spilling the batter over (thrice), or creasing the icing (numerous). Hence why Chanyeol rings at the register, silently calculating totals and change, stationed nowhere near the delicate cakes and pastries.

But Jongin - he decorates the cakes. Not the mediocre cakes on display, or ones sold by the piece. No, Jongin decorates cakes for large celebrations; from weddings to corporate anniversaries to enormous birthdays. He takes no requests on how the cake should be decorated, just give him the event and he and his practiced hands will go to work and give you a cake you have never seen before. One that is too beautiful to even eat and enjoy.

Jongin, and his practiced han-

“Hyung, you’re staring again.”

Chanyeol slightly jumps realizing he was staring at Jongin again and in his embarrassment knocks over his foam cup of coffee from earlier. The liquid spills over the other side of the glass counter where Jongin is standing.

“ _Shit_.”

Jongin laughs again, setting down his spatula and quickly heading back into the kitchen to grab a towel. Chanyeol, on the other hand slumps onto the counter and puts his head in his hands.  
  
“I’m sorry, it’s just been a really long fucking day, this is the third thing I’ve spilt and-”

“Hyung, it’s fine. Nothing happened,” Jongin replies as he walks back into the room. He hands Chanyeol the towel as he inspects the cake. “Looks like it made it out fine.”

Chanyeol frowns. “Barely.” He would personally walk in front of a moving bus if he messed up Jongin’s cake. He quickly mops up the looming brown puddle that was making its way toward the immaculate dessert. When he finishes, he sighs and rubs his eyes, feeling sleep beginning to pull him under.

“If you’re tired, why don’t you go?” Chanyeol looks up. Jongin’s eyes are full of concern, his lips in a small pout. “You’ve been finished for almost an hour now.”

Chanyeol loses words and phrases.

He settles for “Umm...I...well...umm...don’t...want you...to be here... _alone_?” That seems like a good enough answer.

Jongin smiles and shakes his head. He picks up his spatula and begins his rhythm again. “That’s flattering and all, but I can take care of myself. No need to worry about me. It’s you I’m worried about. You shouldn’t have to stay past closing time if you don’t have too.”

Chanyeol frowns. “You shouldn’t have to either.”

“I have this wedding cake to finish for Saturday.”

“That’s three days away.”

“Touché, Park Chanyeol.” Jongin looks up with him, his eyes full of amusement. “Though I’m curious as to why you are so chatty this evening.” Those lips form into a smirk as Jongin leans across the glass counter to look Chanyeol in the eyes, his breath warm on Chanyeol’s lips. “You should talk more often.” Jongin says, eyes never leaving Chanyeol’s. “Has anyone ever told you your voice is seriously sexy?”

Chanyeol seems to forget how to breathe.

  
“Well, it is. Lucky bastard. I’m jealous. I wish my voice was like yours, all smooth and sultry...” Chanyeol just about loses it as Jongin slowly swipes his tongue casually over his pink lips. “I bet the ladies love it.

And with that, Jongin gives him a flirty wink and retreats back to his original position, his practiced hands working their magic once again.  
  
Chanyeol still can’t remember how to breathe. His mind is miles away, trying to figure what the actual fuck just happened there and _was Jongin hitting on me what the fuck why would he do that he wouldn’t do that don’t be stupid he’s probably high off of the oven fumes or something but his lips HIS LIPS WERE RIGHT FUCKING THERE and oh my god what is-_

"Come here.” Chanyeol jumps again, this time minding his flailing arms. Jongin is holding out his metal spatula. It takes Chanyeol a moment to realize that Jongin wants him to take it.

“Uh...why-”

“You think you don’t have any confidence, hyung. That’s why you’re so quiet and think that you’re not good at anything.” Jongin smiles. “But I’m going to show you that you’re better than what you think.” One arm pulls Chanyeol around the counter as the other forces the spatula into his right hand. The metal is foreign to his awkward hands, a sword in the hands of a peasant. Jongin points to a design on the side of the cake. “See this? You’re gonna copy it.”

The is simple, but intricate in its precision. Two lines flow up and down the side of the cake, intertwining in the middle, before repeating the process. One is thick, the color of rose petals. The other is thin, less seen, made of a soft blue. Both colors meet together around the cake to form a light purple. The design is symmetrical around the three layers of cake, each layer more perfect than the last. Chanyeol steps back. The cake is almost completely frosted, only this piece of the puzzle remains. The naked area is no bigger than his hand, all that is left is to meet the two lines together.

He takes another step back. “I-I can’t do this.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Jongin says, giving the taller a forceful push towards the cake. “I have total faith in you, hyung.” Faith in Chanyeol and his awkward hands.

Chanyeol shakes his head. “I’ll mess it up and then it will look awful-”

“Then would you like some help?”

“Wha-” Chanyeol loses words and phrases when Jongin puts one practiced hand over his awkward ones and the other around his waist to rest on the counter. His chin rests on Chanyeol’s shoulder.

“Don’t think, just do,” he whispers in his ear. Jongin leads his hand into the bowl of pink icing, scraping the side of the bowl to level it out. With an even amount on the end of the thin spatula, Jongin take their hands and moves it towards the cake. Chanyeol begins to tense, but he feels Jongin shake his head and begins to whisper, “Trust yourself, hyung.” Jongin pushes the spatula to the side of the cake, and gently twists their wrists. Chanyeol can only watch as Jongin presses the icing onto the side, sliding the spatula along an invisible curve. Jongin leads Chanyeol’s hand up towards the top of the cake, and back down again. Together their hands move. Not in the perfect rhythm Jongin performs on his own, but one more tense and forceful, more awkward. His eyes follow the soft pink line forming, until Jongin flicks their wrists up, and pulls back

The line is complete.

“There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jongin laughs breathlessly into his ear. He lets go of Chanyeol’s hand and takes the metal spatula and trades for a smaller tool covered in the blue icing. “One line to go, hyung.” He pauses. “You’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?”

Chanyeol didn’t realize he was shaking. “N-no, I’m g-good. Let’s just g-get this done.”

“That’s the spirit!”

The thinner line takes more time, more precision. Chanyeol does not breathe as Jongin leads his hand back towards the cake. As their hands begin to move, Chanyeol finds himself relaxing into Jongin’s hold, but not just in his hands. He feels himself melting into the younger, leaning back against him. This makes Chanyeol’s wrist move more freely, less restrained. He is able to move with Jongin, instead of awkwardly against. Chanyeol watches as his hand moves the line up into the pink, creating the purple sensation. It’s a funny thing how two different colors can come together to create something more spectacular. With one last flick of the wrist, the blue line is connected all around, and Jongin pulls their hands away. Chanyeol takes this time to inspect their work. The pink line is slightly off, but not incredibly noticeable. The blue line is more precise, though not completely perfect.

“Not bad at all, hyung!” Jongin says, stepping away from Chanyeol to inspect as well. Chanyeol pouts when he no longer feels Jongin against him. Jongin nods in approval and gives Chanyeol a smile. “You did a really good job, hyung. And you thought you couldn’t do it!” Jongin walks over to the bowls of icing. “There’s still some left in here. I don’t need it anymore.” He turns to Chanyeol. “Want some?”

Chanyeol loses words and phrases as Jongin takes his practiced hand and reaches into the bowl, scraping the pink icing off the side with his finger, and putting it in his mouth. “You really should have some, it’s awesome. If I do say so myself.” Jongin laughs at his own joke, before turning to Chanyeol and pausing. “Hyung...”

“Yeah...”

“You’re staring again.”

“...I know.” Chanyeol watches Jongin tilt his head curiosity, a smear of pink icing left on his upper lip.

“Can you tell me why?” Jongin asks. Chanyeol looks at the icing in the bowl, and then back at Jongin. He watches as Jongin’s eyes follow his, slightly confused, but....intrigued more than anything. Chanyeol finds himself looking at Jongin’s eyes, down the curve of his nose, to those goddamn pink lips, across his shoulders, up his arms, to his fingers, back up his arm, on his collarbones, then to his lips-

“I want to try the icing,” he finally answers.

“Oh...” Jongin says, confusion written all over his face. “Okay....Well, I can get you a spoon." He pauses. "It’s really sweet though-”

“I like sweet things.”

Jongin shrugs. “Alright, let me just find-” Jongin doesn’t have time to react as Chanyeol grabs him by the wrist and pins him against the counter. Jongin loses words and phrases as Chanyeol presses his lips against his, biting the upper lip, licking the icing off. Jongin loses words and phrases as Chanyeol’s tongue somehow gets into his mouth as Jongin gasps for air. Jongin loses words and phrases as Chanyeol pulls back to nibble on Jongin’s ear, breathing heavily, sending a shiver up his spine as he fucking growls “You taste sweeter.” Both lose words and phrases as they become lost in each other, neither one caring about time, nor sleep. Only each other matters at this moment, hand in hand.

Arm in arm.

Skin on skin.

It’s a funny thing how two different colors can come together to create something more spectacular.

 


End file.
